Of Love and Trust and Memories
by Brighteyes of Thunderclan
Summary: Three-part epilogue of Promise, as told through the eyes of Wolffang, Hazelstorm, and Blossomclaw.
1. Trust

Shimmerstar was dead. They didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to believe it, but it was true Who would have thought their fearless leader, their fighting leader, their victorious leader could be beaten by something as little as Greencough? Who would've thought a disease would bring her to her knees, steal away with her sanity, and finally take her life? Not Riverclan. After hundreds of battles, constant stress, she died like _this_. Bramblestorm, the old medicine cat, his joints riddled with crippling arthritis, limped from her den. His hazel eyes were dull and defeated.

"No!" Larchwing shrieked, crouching low on the ground as the pain of loss tore through her, "No!" Jaystrike comforted his daughter, sitting beside her with his tail draped over her shoulders. The warrior's littermates huddled around the pair; Pikenose's fiery amber gaze had darkened considerably to a muted, burnt orange while Mintstripe just crouched in silence, tears leaking from her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Ottersplash was mute and forlorn, looking lost in a world without his mother. They knew exactly how that felt. But the implications of Shimmerstar's death were far worse for them.

Creekfall was furious, mad at Starclan themselves for taking his sister, and he ran into her den with a mournful cry, snow crunching beneath his paws. His mate waited outside, sitting beside their two kits, Sweetspots and Robinclaw. Shimmerstar's mother Firbreeze slowly made her way into her daughter's den as well, stooped and beaten by age and grief. In camp, Streamdash looked proudly about her new Clan. They hated her smug grin, her passionate stare, the way her greedy paws kneaded the sand. Almost instantly after the announcement, Crowshade had turned to her.

"Streamstar!" He shouted, and others joined, but halfheartedly. She silenced them.

"Not until our dear leader rests in her final nest…" The silver she-cat murmured, feigning respect for Shimmerstar in a way that was brutally obvious. Falconshade growled, soft and low, and no one but they heard it. His ginger tail lashed the sandy ground furiously, but Tansyfoot hushed him. Her belly heavy with Rowanleap's kits, she glanced at them worriedly. She too knew what was coming, and she was in no ready state to stop it. So many things had happened to sway the clan towards the conniving silver deputy…so many things they, especially he, wished they could've prevented…

There was the Great War with Windclan after they had sought to claim horseplace, and part of Riverclan's territory, as their own. Lighthawk, one of Streamdash's greatest supporters, had died, but so had Troutfur and Liontail and Shymoon. They'd mourned their aunt's loss for many moons, but eventually they lost their uncle, too, from infected wounds and their cousins were left orphaned.

Then there was Duststripe's untimely death by storm, where the river had flooded the camp and she'd drowned. This did not seem so eventful at the time, but when Rowanleap slowly fell for Tansyfoot, Finchfeather and Reedfrost turned against them; they believed their father was betraying their mother, and naturally all of them were to blame. He hated it.

Crowshade's malevolence had eventually turned his entire family against them: Lilystep was no longer so kind to them, nor so welcoming, in fear of what her mate might do to her. The kits were manipulated by their father's unending mistrust, and soon Hailstorm, Frostpatch, and Gooseclaw turned against them. Becoming outsiders in their own Clan, the trio decided they had to do something drastic.

Windclan was still pushing Riverclan's borders, and had been for some time. This was well known, especially since Windclan's defeat at Riverclan's paws had done nothing to dissuade the land-hungry cats. They decided they'd settle it, and prove their loyalty. Trekking out to the border in the dead of night, they waited to ambush the troublemakers on the other side who thought they could intimidate the water dwellers. The mission was successful…until Windclan's backup patrol arrived. Everyone they'd brought with them: their cousins Smoketail and Egretflight, Hazelnose, and even Silverfish and Heronclaw, were terribly injured in battle, some wounds even proving fatal. Silverfish died in the heat of combat, while Smoketail passed away a moon later from a nasty gash on his belly. Afterwards, many warrior's loyalties turned and they began to distrust the halfclanners and Falconshade, and everyone associated with them. This surge of Streamdash supporters worried the trio's friends, and some turned on them just because they wanted to fit in. Soon, they found themselves essentially alone.

"Papa, what are we going to do?" Blossomclaw whispered nervously once the Clan had settled down for the night. Shimmerstar's family sat vigil over her body, and the four cats had already gone to pay their respects. "We can't fight to stay, there's too few of us, and she won't listen to reason. We can't rebel, we can't overthrow her…"

"I don't know, love, I don't know." Falconshade replied worriedly.

"There's only one thing we can do!" Wolffang hissed, his voice low.

"And what's that? Become kittypets? She'll banish us, no doubt, if she doesn't kill us first!" Hazelstorm growled.

"We have to go back." Wolffang said.

"Go back where?" Blossomclaw snapped furiously, "Where can we go? Any good ideas, birdbrain? How about twolegplace! Maybe even a badger set! What a lovely idea!" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Shadowclan." Wolffang answered quietly. All four of them went silent.

"Would they take us back?" Hazelstorm murmured.

"They'd have to take the three of you back…they'd have to. They respected your mother. Hollowstar is still alive, and I'm sure he'd take you." Falconshade mumbled, as if to himself.

"We won't go without you," Blossomclaw nuzzled her father lovingly. "If they take us, they have to take you too."

"As your new leader," Streamstar announced, having arrived home from the Moonpool, "My first act will be to name a deputy. Crowshade, do you accept this position?"

"I do," The dark gray tom said proudly. Streamstar smiled, a wide and toothy grin.

"Very good. Now, for my second act…" She stared down at Falconshade and the kits. They'd known this was coming. "We, my fellow clanmates, have been living among traitors for too long! One of our own stooped so low as to break the warrior code, and had the audacity to bring his kits, kits born of a broken code, to our Clan!" A dull roar rose up from the surrounding cats, some still too numb from the death of their leader to cheer in agreement or dissent, others silent in their indifference. Wolffang bristled, and Blossomclaw and Hazelstorm pressed against each other in quiet solidarity. Falconshade hung his head, battered by the words of his former clanmates.

"Code breaker!" They howled, "Law shaker! Traitor! Shadowclan scum!" They stomped their paws, and the thunderous pounding shook the earth. Streamstar stood in the center of the mob, looking at her clanmates smugly before raising her tail.

"Silence!" She shouted, and the chanting died down. Tansyfoot glanced at her uncle worriedly, as did Egretflight and Talonblaze, while Fallowfern stared stonily at her cousins from a distance away. Jaystrike looked up at Streamstar with dull eyes, defeated, and his kits gathered mournfully behind him, too stunned with loss and grief to realize the intentions of their new leader.

"For my second act, I summon before the all-seeing eyes of Starclan these four cats: Falconshade, Wolffang, Blossomclaw, and Hazelstorm!" All eyes rested on them. Wolffang held her triumphant stare defiantly. "I banish you from Riverclan, and you are hereby stripped of your names, for you do not deserve the sacred mark of a warrior! Leave us now, and if you're not off our territory by sunset…" A wild light came to the silver she-cat's blazing blue eyes, "it is Starclan's will that we do with you what we wish. Go!"

"Go, go!" The Clan cried, their voices raised in unison, united against them. Wolffang growled, but the furious gazes of cats he once knew as friends and equals burned his like tongues of flame.

"We have to leave," Falconshade hissed, nudging his son's shoulder.

"Be safe, please!" Tansyfoot begged, hazel eyes bright with worry.

"And never return!" Fallowfern screamed. Blossomclaw cried as they turned and fled; silver tears raced down her cheeks as one of the best friends she'd ever known chased her fro her home. Hazelstorm led the way, dark brown tabby tail whipping in the wind as he dashed out of camp. The others followed, breathless, as the young warrior lept across the stepping stones and hit the sand on the other side with a dull thud. At once, he began to run again.

By nightfall, the travelers had reached the outskirts of horseplace, cautiously pacing about the barn. It seemed warm in there, and in the dead of Leafbare the soft light that seeped through the boarded up windows was welcoming, tempting even.

"I won't!" Blossomclaw cried as her brothers tried to coax her inside, "I won't, I'll never! We're warriors, damn it all, we're still warriors! Where is your dignity?"

"You can die with your dignity," Wolffang hissed, "And I'll survive with mine."

"Taking shelter in horseplace! Is this what we've come to?" Blossomclaw snapped furiously. "We're already nameless, and now we're twoleg's pets!"

"You're not nameless!" Falconshade insisted, "Your mother gave you those names, and Streamstar can ever tear that away from you. Shimmerstar made you warriors in the eyes of Starclan as well. Do you think they'd allow someone like Streamstar to take that away from you?"

"Who cares? If Starclan truly watched over us, they wouldn't have let her banish us!" Blossomclaw wailed.

"Maybe they did it for a reason," Hazelstorm offered gently, "Maybe they're telling us we weren't meant to stay."

"It's our home!" Blossomclaw protested.

"No anymore," Wolffang hissed, "Now get inside before you're arguing makes us all freeze to death!" The thick pelted white tom stalked off in the direction of the barn, blending in with the fluffy mounds of fresh snow that had fallen throughout the day's journey. Hazelstorm glanced at his sister before following his brother into the shelter. Blossomclaw sniffled.

"If Starclan's really with us, Papa, where is Whitefang?" She whimpered, like a lost kitten. The scarred ginger tom sighed, and draped his tail over her shoulders as her guided her toward the soft golden glow of the barn.

"She's here, sweet one, I know she is." He murmured.

"She said she'd never leave us," Blossomclaw whispered tearfully, "so where is she now?" Falconshade shook his head and kept walking, trudging through the snow and braving the icy gusts of wind. She kept pace with him, and soon the pair reached the heavy wooden door to the barn, wet and cold and shivering. Falconshade shoved the hulking mass of wood open just enough for the ginger she-cat the wriggle her way inside, and he followed quickly, entering just before the door slammed shut, his tail inches from where the gap was moments before. Wolffang and Hazelstorm had already busied themselves with making nests of straw and stray chicken feathers on the tall stacks of hay. Like golden mountains, the block-like bales were piled atop each other in large towers. The white tom glanced at his sister, and in his blue eyes a twinge of regret glimmered; he knew he'd been too harsh on her. They _had_ just lost their home, their friends, some of the only family they'd ever known. But he knew they had someplace else to go.

 **Part 1 of 3**


	2. Memories

"We leave for Shadowclan in the morning!" He declared decisively. Hazelstorm looked up at him warily from where he built the third nest.

"That requires traveling through Riverclan territory," The tabby mewed cautiously, "Would that be wise? Shouldn't we wait a day for the Clan to settle down? They'll be lying in wait, you know. There hasn't been any action on the borders for a moon. They're looking for a fight."

Wolffang frowned, "No. We have to leave tomorrow."

"And why is that?" Falconshade rumbled, eyes narrow, "We need to build up our strength. Hazelstorm is right, they'll be waiting for us, and all we can do is wait in return."

"And if we wait too long?" Wolffang countered, "What then? What if Hollowstar dies? What if Stonetail and Paledove are already dead, and he dies? Who will support us in Shadowclan then? That Clan is our birthright! What will we do when there is no one left who can attest to that? What if we wait, as you say, and become so cozy here we never leave? We need to get to Shadowclan as soon as possible." The white tom was insistent, and Hazelstorm knew that at this point arguing was futile. Blossomclaw sniffed, turning away.

"I'm going hunting," She said in a small voice, walking away further into the depths of the barn, "I'll be back later." The three toms watched her go, Falconshade sadly, Wolffang irritably, and Hazelstorm soon went back to building the third nest. Wolffang growled a few inaudible things to himself before settling down into his own nest and glaring at the distant wall of the barn. Falconshade glanced up at his sons and wondered what they'd been reduced to before he commenced construction of his own nest. Hazelstorm finished his project before jumping down to assist his father.

"Here, let me do it." The young warrior said, hauling a mouthful of fresh straw over to his father's nest, arranging them in a cozy circle. Falconshade smiled.

"Thank you," He purred, touching his nose to his son's cheek. Ever since Waverunner's death, the ginger tom had gotten quieter, more broken than he was before. He had always been their guardian angel, their protector, and their rock. But now, Wolffang and Hazelstorm had taken his place as authoritarian figure, of leader, of defender. Falconshade had been moons older than Whitefang; his littermates had mates and kits before he'd ever even heard of the white warrior. Now, his joints would creak some days or his bones would ache in cold weather, and old wounds might act up of old muscle scars would twinge with pain at random. He was a battle worn warrior, an aging veteran. His kits had taken it upon themselves to care for him, and he would provide wise council or sage opinion on important matters of dispute.

"Anything for you, Papa." Hazelstorm smiled in reply, patting down a layer of soft white chicken feathers over the spiky, prickly straw. As soon as they'd finished, Falconshade glanced into the dark area where Blossomclaw had wandered off to hunt.

"I think I'll fetch your sister, maybe help her out a bit. We'll be back soon." Falconshade meowed, padding away. "Get some rest!"

"We will," Hazelstorm assured him before returning to his nest, situated on the bale just below Wolffang's. As soon as he'd curled up in it, the brown tabby had fallen asleep. Wolffang was alone.

The white tom stared at the long, dark planks of wood that made up the barn wall. Some were splintered, others dented and worn. Each was different, and beaten up in some way or another. None were perfect. An occasional icy blast would whistle through the cracks between a pair of wooden beams and he would shiver, but he wasn't truly paying attention to the wall and its imperfections. No, the former Riverclan tom had much more serious things on his mind.

 _Starclan, if you really wanted us to go, send me a sign._ He prayed silently from the tip of his golden mountain. _Please. Whitefang, if you're still out there, if you haven't given up on us just yet, please tell me! Show me something, anything._ He closed his eyes, and he tried to remember Shadowclan. All that came immediately to him was the scent of pine needles and milk, and a pair of glowing golden eyes: his mother's eyes. He pushed himself to remember more: her scent, her voice, and the beat of her heart and the touch of her fur against his. The tighter he squeezed his eyes shut and the more he tried to recall his life before her death, the struggle was painful. His head ached something fierce, and the most he remembered was her face. And that was only because he'd seen her once again, after death. He could still picture vividly his mother's rage-filled golden gaze, the stern line of her mouth, and the proud stance she had taken on the halfbridge. He could also see his aunt clearly: he shimmering silver and white pelt, her wild, bright green eyes and sinister smile. He knew she'd once been beautiful, but the cat he'd seen was not Swanmist. He refused to believe she was the real Swanmist. Wolffang willingly let the memory slide from his grasp, and he relaxed into the soft feathers and crinkly straw. He quickly drifted into fitful waking dreams.

"Whitefang!" He cried. He was standing on the halfbridge, fearful of what was coming next. He felt as though something was lurking just behind him, but he was unable to turn his head. "Whitefang, where are you?"

"There's nothing to fear," Her soft voice echoed over the quiet lake.

"Mama, there's something behind me!" He whispered fearfully, feeling once again like the kit that stood at the edge of the pier all those moons ago.

"Turn around," She replied, "And see for yourself." He suddenly found himself able to move, and he whipped around rapidly, claws unsheathed. Nothing stood by the lakeshore but rippling grasses and swaying reeds. A swallow warbled in the nearby brush. The hairs that stood at the nape of his neck flattened, and he unsheathed his claws.

"There's nothing to fear," Whitefang murmured, "But fear itself." He turned toward the lake again, and his mother stood atop the little blue waves that rolled toward the shore. Unlike the last time he'd seen her, her pelt did not shimmer. She seemed solid and alive, the first time he'd seen her like that since the night before he drowned. She padded toward him, paws just barely skimming the peaks of the ripples. Her smile was brighter than the sun, and her eyes seemed to glow with unending light. Her entire being bespoke warmth and love, and he rushed to embrace her. She met him at the edge of the dock and nuzzled his face with the tenderness of mother.

"I've missed you," He choked. He hadn't seen her for the longest time…every so often, a golden glint would flash in the corner of his eye, or the faint scent of pine and star shine would waft about him, or soft tail tip would skim his shoulder. He'd known she was there whenever he felt these things, but he'd never truly seen her. She was just as he remembered: beautiful in her strength, mighty in her pride.

"And you needn't have. I've been right here." She purred. Pulling away, she looked at his approvingly.

"Look at you! You're enormous. Let's see…" She sidled up to him, measuring her shoulder against his. He stood taller, but by just enough to get by. She laughed. "Just barely!" He grinned.

"I only wish I could be half the warrior you were. Falconshade told us stories, but…I'd rather hear them from you." He was hopeful, but she shook her head.

"All the ones I could share end with impossibly embarrassing events at my expense, and I'm sure he's told you the others. Ask your grandparents." She meowed playfully. His eyes widened.

"They're still-?" He meowed excitedly. She nodded. "And you want us to-?"

"It's your birthright," She mewed, mimicking his earlier thoughts so well he assumed she'd heard them, "and your home."

"I don't remember it at all," Wolffang whispered, distressed, "Nothing." Whitefang frowned.

"Well, we can't have that." She mewed, disappointed. "Follow me." She lept down off of the halfbridge, and landed on the soft yellow sand. He jumped after her, hurrying to catch up as she strode confidently through empty Riverclan territory. As they walked, he noticed their surroundings change. The seasons cycled through backwards, and the landscape shifted subtly with every passing moment. Soon, though, the morphing wilderness ceased its cycle. They crossed the border into Shadowclan, and Whitefang stood for a moment, breathing in the rich symphony of forest scents. The heavy drizzle that fell around them didn't touch them, but soaked the pine needle covered ground.

"Is this real? Am I still dreaming?" Wolffang wondered. Whitefang smiled sadly and shook her head.

"No, little one. This is just a memory."

They continued on their journey, and soon were walking through a shaded thorny tunnel. As they emerged onto the other side, action and life erupted about them, and Wolffang stopped immediately, floored by the familiarity and yet utter foreignness of the camp. He knew it was the camp…why else would so many of his mother's clanmates gather here? Whitefang seemed to relax; his mother glanced about the bustling scene with a sad wistfulness about her.

"Mama…do I know these cats?" He wondered, padding up alongside her. She nodded silently.

"There's one you should recognize." She murmured, gesturing with a paw to a hurrying little tuft of white fur. Wolffang stared aghast at it as it trotted away purposefully to what he assumed was the nursery, carrying what seemed to be a bluebird feather in its mouth.

"Is…is that me?" He asked, astonished.

"Yes," She purred, "Go look and see." Leaving her to stand in the middle of camp, Wolffang ran to the nursery. He wriggled through the entrance excitedly, and found his little kit-self prodding a sleeping Whitefang awake. His mother looked far more peaceful than he'd ever seen her before.

"Mother!" Little Wolfkit squeaked. Wolffang watched as his kit-self woke Whitefang, who smiled amusedly without opening her eyes. Her ears twitched, and he knew she was trying not to laugh.

"Yes, Wolfkit, darling?" She mumbled.

"What is this called?" He asked, prodding her again. Wolffang chuckled as Wolfkit insistently tugged at his mother. Whitefang opened her eyes.

"What is what, dear?" Whitefang asked sleepily.

"This!" Wolfkit mewed, pushing a bright blue feather towards her. Wolffang watched as Whitefang caught herself before laughing, and he grinned.

"That's a feather, sweetheart." Whitefang purred, and a distant look appeared momentarily in her eyes. Wolffang wondered what she was thinking about.

"A feather?" Little Wolfkit repeated, poking the blue feather curiously. He prodded into the air, where it lazily drifted back down into the nest. "Where do feathers come from?"

"They come from birds," Whitefang explained patiently, "Because they help birds fly. Flying is when something goes through the sky, and can stay up in the air without falling." Wolfkit listened intently, and Wolffang watched himself curiously. He was nothing more than an inquisitive ball of kit fluff, but there was something endearing about all his questions.

"Can cats fly?" He asked. Wolffang laughed, and Whitefang did too.

"No, cats can't fly." Whitefang answered amusedly, "And I wouldn't try, if I were you. Now, where is your brother? And your sister?"

"Blossomkit and Hazelkit are visiting the elders. They wanted to hear stories, but I've heard them all already!" The little white tom said proudly, puffing out his chest. Wolffang immediately imagined his littermates this small, and couldn't wait to see them. He shook his head at his kit-self. _There is no way one can hear every story._ He thought sagely.

"Wow! All of them?" Whitefang gasped, her eyes wide. Wolffang admired his mother's acting.

"All of them!" Wolfkit replied, grinning, "Stonetail says I must be the wisest kit in all the Clans if I've heard every single story." Wolffang thought about his grandparents; could he have possibly known them once? Have memorized their faces, heard their voices?

"Well, have you asked Timbermask to tell you any of _his_ stories?" Whitefang asked. Wolffang sarted. _Timbermask?_ He hadn't heard that name, remembered that name, or even thought about that name in the longest time. _Timbermask. Who is Timbermask?_

"I haven't! Does Daddy have good stories?" Wolfkit wondered, blue eyes wide. A shadow crossed over Whitefang's face at the same time Wolffang gasped out loud. No one heard him. _Timbermask!_ He wanted to shout. He remembered…Dazed, Wolffang stumbled out of the nursery, leaving his kit self and mother behind. He found Whitefang out in the clearing, and noticed she looked more exhausted than ever.

"Timbermask?" He mewed once he reached her, head spinning. She pursed her lips and inhaled deeply.

"Yes, Timbermask." She replied, knowing exactly what he meant by the name, innocently posed as a question.

"I-I remember." Wolffang stammered…"He was…"

"He was there for us when we needed him," Whitefang replied evenly, her voice betraying a small pang of regret. "Nothing more."

"But…I said…Daddy." Wolffang meowed.

"Nothing more!" Whitefang insisted, but at that moment little Wolfkit came bursting out of the nursery a pleased smile on his face, and Wolffang was distracted. The little tom dashed to the warrior's den and disappeared inside. A white-pelted shape stood in the nursery entrance, and Wolffang watched, open mouthed, as two familiar shapes bumbled toward the other Whitefang. One was ginger and white, the other dark brown tabby. They met the other Whitefang at the nursery, and began talking rapidly. He could see the surprise on his mother's face from where he stood. She was…scared.

"Mama, what're they saying?" He asked, but Whitefang was silent. Then, little Wolfkit darted back out into the rain, followed by someone much bigger. A hulking pale brown tabby tom emerged from the warrior's den, eyes squinty and ears back against the splattering raindrops. His whiskers twitched bemusedly as Wolfkit scampered ahead, and his tabby striped pelt ruffled against the cool water falling from ominous gray clouds. Wolffang stared at him intently: the handsome tom's face was so familiar, the green of his eyes tugging at the white warrior's memory…he squinted, as if that would help him make out the Shadowclan cat's significance. Suddenly, and image bloomed in his mind, so real and so vibrant it shook him to the very core.

 _"Timbermask!" He cried, "Dad!"_

 _"Wolfkit, wait up!" Blossomkit called after him, struggling to exit the nursery on sleepy, wobbly legs._

 _"Guys!" Hazelkit mewed, racing after them._

 _"Daddy!" Blossomkit howled. A disgruntled Timbermask stumbled out of the warrior's den, eyes bleary and unfocused as he walked toward his foster kits._

 _"What's wrong? Why are you up so early? The dawn patrol hasn't even woken yet. Go back to sleep." He mewed softly, "Go back to your mother. Go on now." Timbermask herded the kits back to the nursery. By now, Paledove and Stonetail had emerged from the warrior's den as well. Bleary eyed and ungroomed, they approached their family._

 _"What's all the ruckus?" The graying deputy asked, shaking his head as though to clear it. Paledove padded slowly after him, crystal blue eyes half-closed. Blossomkit raced to her grandmother, grasping her about the leg in a desperate attempt to be noticed._

 _"Paledove, Paledove, I can't find Mama!" She whimpered. Immediately, the former queen's eyes snapped open._

 _"Whitefang? You can't find Whitefang?" She asked, looking down at the ginger kit. Blossomkit nodded anxiously._

 _"She was here last night, Paledove. I woke up and she was leaving. She wouldn't tell me when she was coming back." The tiny kit sniffed._

 _"Leaving?" Stonetail whispered, his voice cracked and tired._

 _"Whitefang…she always leaves. She always comes back. Maybe she just got stuck in the storm." Paledove offered, consoling her mate and granddaughter. Wolfkit and Hazelkit looked to their foster father worriedly._

 _"She just left," Wolfkit repeated, hoping to evoke some kind of response. Timbermask stayed silent. Then, turning to Blossomkit, he asked:_

 _"What exactly did she say to you, sweetheart?" He murmured._

 _"She said…it was something Mommy had to do alone. I couldn't come," Blossomkit mewled, "She never said when she'd come back…but she said she'd always love us." This hit Timbermask hard. His eyes widened, like deep green pools that shone with grief._

 _"Whitefang," He whispered, voicing the pain that had blossomed in his chest._ Wolffang gasped for breath, stumbling backwards, away from his mother.

"Wolffang! Are you alright?" She asked worriedly, crouching by his side as he sat on the ground, shaking his head as if ridding himself from some nightmare.

"You left…" He mumbled. Another one hit him, even more powerful than the first.

 _Timbermask entered. Paledove's echoing cry shook the earth. Whitefang's body was draped over a pair of strong, pale brown shoulders crisscrossed with darker stripes. His emerald eyes were dark and watered down with defeat. Stonetail's sharp intake of breath and choked speech - "No!" - riled the kits, who in turn began to cry. Wolfkit screamed, staring at her. Cherrynose whimpered quietly as Timbermask lowered himself to the ground and gently slid the sodden, dirty white form from his back and onto the ground with a small thud. Her golden eyes were still open: wide, terrified, and unseeing. He raced up to the body. Wolfkit licked her face, and tasted the acrid tang from the grimy river water._

 _"Mama?" He mewed, pawing at her cheek, "Mama it's me! Don't you remember me?" Hazelkit buried his face in his mother's pelt, and looked up to Timbermask in fear._

 _"She's cold, Daddy! Her fur is cold!" He wailed. Blossomkit threw herself at her mother, shaking her body persistently._

 _"Get up! Get up!" She cried, "Mama, you need to get up!"_

 _"Her eyes are open, Daddy, but she won't get up! Is she still asleep?" Wolfkit asked, beseeching staring into Timbermask's sullen face._

 _"She isn't sleeping, Wolfkit," He replied, raising a paw to cover his mouth, for he couldn't bear telling the whole truth to such an innocent child._

 _"Mama, you said you would stay with us! You promised!" Blossomkit squeaked._

 _"Mama, please!" Hazelkit whined, catching on before his siblings. His eyes widened. "Mama?"_

 _Paledove collapsed beside her daughter, pressing against her soaking wet pelt. She coiled around Whitefang as if she were a sleeping kit, lapping at her fur, murmuring sweet nothings that she would never hear._

 _"Whitefang," Stonetail rasped, padding over to the body, "my daughter."_

 _"What's wrong, Daddy?" Blossomkit whimpered, looking up at her stoic foster father, "What's wrong with Mama?_

 _"Whitefang- Mama's dead." Timbermask whispered. The kits commenced their hysteria, straining to reach their mother. Cherrynose shook her head and gently herded the kits back to the nursery, where the other queens and kits stared out in horror and disbelief. By now, the entire warrior's den had emerged into the clearing, yowling and crying out in pain. Hollowstar and Featherfall braced themselves against each other, the former queen's copper eyes dark as night as she remembered the warrior who once saved her and named her daughter, who she now joined in Starclan. Bouncestrike and Rainwing comforted their brother, and their parents mourned quietly from a fair distance away. Addershriek's glowing hazel gaze was clouded and distant, as was Waterfall's, as they were reminded of the hardworking apprentice that had once graced their mentorships. The apprentices – Aspenpaw, Sorrelpaw, Honeypaw, and Emberpaw – gazed upon the fallen warrior with great sadness. Emberpaw had lost one of his first and only friends in the Clans, and his Uncle, Lightheart, stood beside Rosefoot solemnly. The tears in his eyes spilled silently over his cheeks, and eventually he had to turn away. Pinetail stood by his parents, who mourned Whitefang's loss as the others did. Even Icegaze managed to conjure a tear as he held Stormfall back from the body. Shiverspots murmured small comforts to her frantic brother, who was in no way consoled. The elders arrived, old joints creaking as they told themselves it should've been them to go first. The younger warriors and even the older ones, such as Kestrelwind, stayed quietly off to the side, letting those who were closer to Whitefang step forward._

 _Wolfkit watched from the nursery as Shiverspots enlisted Addershriek and Hollowstar's help in carrying the body into the medicine cat's den for burial and vigil preparations. The other kits were cowering in the nursery entrance with him now, sniffling and watching Timbermask with wide eyes. The tabby was standing still and icy cold in the clearing, watching Paledove and Stonetail curl about each other._

"You drowned, and you left us…" Wolffang rasped, emotion wracking his body as he recalled thing long suppressed.

 _A strange cat stood in the camp, his ginger head held high as if Shadowclan had something that belonged to him. He demanded his kits, and the Clan buzzed with confusion._

 _"I'm taking them home!"_

 _Falconshade stood in the center of camp, his head held high and proud as he surveyed the Clan that outnumbered him twenty to one. His blue eyes shone with a light she'd never seen before: he was determined to take his children home._

 _"Who is he?" Someone hissed angrily._

 _"Who does he think he is?"_

 _"What is he doing here?"_

 _"He stinks of Riverclan!"_

 _"Leave, Riverclanner!"_

 _"Swim away like one of those skunky fish you eat!"_

 _"You're not welcome here!"_

 _Falconshade took the insults in stride and stood firm in the center of the crowd. His two cohorts, a pair of burly Riverclan warriors, stood at either side of the tunnel, poised to flee._

 _"I'm here to take my kits home," He said simply. Icegaze stepped forward, his silver eyes as cold as stone._

 _"There are no kits here for you!" He snarled, claws unsheathed. A pale brown tabby was silent in the back of the mob, his emerald eyes dark as midnight._

 _"Wolfkit?" Falconshade called. Every cat froze. They glanced warily at each other, wondering how this strange tom knew that name. "Blossomkit! Hazelkit! Where are you?" The ginger tabby scanned the crowd for his children, his voice growing anxious. "Come on, you three. I don't bite!"_

 _"Yeah, right!" Grayshadow growled. Paledove stepped forward, crystal blue eyes balls of ice._

 _"Those kits are not yours!" She hissed, "They are my daughter's and Timbermask's! How dare you-"_

 _"Paledove," Falconshade said gently. The pale silver warrior stopped speaking, clearly stunned by the recognition. "They are my kits. Whitefang's and mine. I'm here to take them home with me." Stonetail's golden eyes widened. His grandfather looked from Falconshade down to Timbermask's paws, where they stood. Then, he looked from the tom to the kits again. A spark of recognition flared in his gaze, but the gray tom said nothing. He only stared, slack jawed, at the ginger tabby._

 _"Whitefang would never betray her Clan!" Cherrynose howled furiously from the nursery. Her face poked out from the black depths of the den, dark blue eyes narrowed and angry. "Never!"_

 _"They are his kits," A small voice said shakily from the crowd. Wolfkit watched curiously, not fully comprehending the situation, as Stormfall stepped out, sadness in his gaze as he went to stand beside Falconshade. "They are his kits and Timbermask knows it." Every cat turned to stare at the brown tabby tom, who fought their eyes with his, challenging anyone and everyone who dared question his fatherhood._

 _"Stormfall! How could she not tell us, if this is really true?" Waterfall demanded. Blueshine and Addershriek nodded, stunned by the thought that the kits were not theirs by blood._

 _"She did not see it as betrayal," Stormfall said, his voice growing stronger, "only as love. And as a wise cat once said: Love is never wrong, and so it never dies." Stonetail's eyes welled with tears. "Clearly, this love did not die with Whitefang. Just look at him: do you not see it? He is their father, and therefore has a right to act as one."_

 _"No!" Paledove cried._

 _"Would Whitefang want this petty squabbling over her kits?" Stormfall challenged her. The crowd went silent. Looking at each other and the tom with fury and disbelief. Even Hollowstar was speechless. Then, a squeaky-small voice piped up from the back._

 _"Is it true?" Wolfkit made his way through the barrier of cats and stood before his true father curiously. "Are you really my Papa?" Falconshade's blue eyes softened, and he leaned down to see eye to eye with his son._

 _"It is true." He replied gently._

 _"Then why didn't you stay with us?" Wolfkit asked, hurt. Falconshade sighed heavily._

 _"Because your mother was a very careful cat. She had just gotten her mother back, and was worried about losing her again. She did what she thought was best for all of us, and that was keeping me away. It was only supposed to be for a little while. I promised her I'd join Shadowclan to be with her, I'd do whatever it took to be your Papa." He explained carefully. By now, Blossomkit had joined her brother. Hazelkit was cautiously making his way toward them, golden eyes narrow and wary._

 _"Did Mama love you?" Blossomkit wondered, "If she did, why did she keep you away?"_

 _"I think your mama had a very hard life sometimes, and she made decisions based on what she thought was right. I loved her, and she loved me, but sometimes that's not all that matters." Falconshade murmured, eyes betraying his pain._

 _"Do you love us?" Hazelkit mewed._

 _"Of course I love you! I love you with all my heart. And that's why I'm taking you home." The ginger tabby said._

 _"You can't take them!" Timbermask exploded from the back, pushing his way toward Falconshade. "I won't let you!" the kits turned and stared, wide eyed, at their foster father._

 _"But he's our Papa too," Wolfkit whispered._

 _"We should go home." Falconshade said quickly, standing up. Hollowstar looked at him with great sadness._

 _"Don't let him take them!" Paledove screamed._

 _"Gramma!" Blossomkit cried out in fear as Addershriek went to hold her back._

 _"As their true father, it is only right that the kits stay with their remaining parent…" Hollowstar said, his voice empty and emotionless._

 _"No!" Paledove shrieked._

 _"…and therefore, Falconshade may return with the kits to his Clan, as his next of kin by blood."_

 _"You can't do this!" Timbermask howled._

 _"Are you ready to go?" Falconshade asked the kits calmly, ignoring the chaos. Wolfkit glanced over his shoulder at his family._

 _"But-"_

 _"Yes," Blossomkit mewed in a small voice._

 _"Do we really have a choice?" Hazelkit asked himself, staring at his foster father. Stonetail had leapt forward and pinned Timbermask to the ground as Addershriek barred Paledove from the kits, trying to mask her hysteria. Timbermask snarled from beneath Stonetail, desperately trying to claw his way to the kits._

 _"Don't leave with him! Stay, stay with me!" He called. Hazelkit turned away._

 _"Please! Please, not them! Anything but them!" Paledove wailed as the last three parts of her daughter were taken away. Wolfkit was the only one who still watched their struggle._

 _"Wolfkit! My son, my beautiful, beautiful little warrior…don't go." Timbermask pleaded, crying. He reached for the little tom from between the bars of his new prison._

 _"We should really be going." Falconshade murmured, lifting the ragged white kit up in his jaws as gently as possible. His two compatriots joined his, each taking a kit in their mouth a delicately as possible. Paledove screamed bloody murder, and Timbermask called their names. But the ginger tabby and his clanmates were already leaving. The rest of the Clan watched in stunned silence as the final part of Whitefang was taken from them. With a final swish of his ginger tabby tail, Falconshade had disappeared. Wolfkit heard Timbermask from the tunnel, and his heart tore painfully._

 _"Let me go," Timbermask sobbed, "let me go, I have to get them! I have to bring them back…Whitefang!"_

"He took us away!" Wolffang howled, doubling over with the weight of these newfound memories. Whitefang pressed against her son, licking his ears, whispering gentle words of assurance.

"Everything turned out alright…everything is fine…please, little one, look at me…" Wolffang glared up at his mother.

"You-you left us! You _killed yourself_ and you _left_ us!" He moaned, "And he _stole us away_! Papa stole us!" Wolffang buried his face in his paws, everything that he ever thought was true quickly disappearing. "He never told us how you died…he never said-he never said he stole us from them…he never talked about Timbermask…" He looked up at Whitefang tearfully, anger replaced by distress and wounded faith, "Is my entire life a lie?"

"Look here now," Whitefang mewed sternly, wrapping her son up in her self, smothering him until white blended with white and they were one together in the forest of the past, "I don't know what he told, or what he didn't tell you. The point is that he is your family; he is your father. He raised all three of you well and to the best of his abilities, and you came from a difficult place, with a difficult past, and you struggled. The point is that he loves you, and that they all love you, and all they ever wanted was for you to be happy. You were happy in Riverclan, weren't you?"

He nodded feebly.

"And were you happy in Shadowclan? Did you look happy?" she asked. He shook his head. "You needed to get out of there. You needed a fresh start and fresh faces. He _loves you._ He's always loved you. And now, wherever you're all together is home. Riverclan was home, and now Shadowclan can be home again. Please, tell me you understand." Whitefang met his watery blue gaze and he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I understand." He whispered.

"Good, now-" Whitefang began, but then her ears twitched.

"Mama, will I see anything else?" He asked softly, "Mama?"

"No, you have to go." She said suddenly. He furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"I said you have to go! Now! Get up!" Whitefang mewed insistently, "Wake up!"

"But Mama, I-"

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter anymore! Wake up!" She cried.

 **Part 2 of 3**


	3. Love

His blue eyes snapped open, and all at once he smelled the smoke. Leaping to his paws, Wolffang's eyes stung with the acrid tang of ash and his paws burned as he trampled the cinders that glowed about his nest. The hay was aflame, the entire barn was aflame, and everything was burning.

"Get up!" He shouted, and his throat was immediately choked with fluttering white-hot ash. "Get up!" He screamed. Hazelstorm stirred, and in his sleep he smelled the fire. Golden eyes lit up as he woke, and the dark brown tabby shrieked as he realized the tip of his tail was burning and the entire straw mountain had gone up in smoke.

"Wolffang!" He shrieked.

"Get the others!" Wolffang cried, bounding down from the top of the pyramid and descending into thicker smog. "Falconshade!" He coughed miserably, fighting to see through the dense gray haze. He couldn't spot the ginger tabby in the commotion as mice and rats scuttled over his paws in the mad dash to get out.

"Blossomclaw!" He heard Hazelstorm scream, "Blossomclaw!"

"Hazelstorm, Wolffang, where are you?" Blossomclaw wailed, "Help me!"

"Dad!" Wolffang called, increasingly worried, "Dad!" The tips of his white fur were singed badly and all he smelled was smoke and flames. A rapid-fire cough exploded nearby, hacking and choking. Wolffang ran to it. He ducked low and found a stripe of semi-clear air at the very bottom of the barn, where Falconshade had slept. The cough sounded again.

"Falconshade!" He rasped, ash thick gray sludge on his tongue.

"Son?" A weary, gagging voice whispered, just barely audible over the crackling flames. Wolffang crawled forward, squinting to keep the debris from stinging his eyes. He spotted Falconshade ahead, struggling to find his way through the all-encompassing smoke. Reaching out, he tapped his father with a paw.

"Crouch down!" He called out, and Falconshade, relieved, dropped to the ground. Blinking, the ginger tabby cleared his eyes and stared at his son.

"The others-" He rasped.

"Hazelstorm is helping Blossomclaw. First, we need to find a way out. We need to get you out!" He shouted over the roaring inferno that was the barn. He heard indistinct twoleg voices outside, and made his way toward them, hoping the sounds might provide a window of opportunity. They crawled forward, Wolffang leading his father bravely through the maze of smoldering coals and flashing sparks lit by the dry, crumbling straw. Wolffang paused, choking, eyes watering, mouth dry and cracked. Falconshade crawled onward, but stopped when he realized the young white tom had fallen unconscious having inhaled too much smoke. The determined ginger tabby took Wolffang's ashy scruff in his jaws and valiantly dragged his son through the blaze.

Falconshade finally reached the door they'd entered from, the wood now glowing as if lit from the inside: an enormous charcoal slab, burning with the force of a thousand flames. The tom shoved it open with one well-muscled shoulder, and hauled Wolffang from the fiery inferno. He tossed the limp white tom into the snow, hoping it would quench the little fires that had sparked in Wolffang's thick pelt. Falconshade took at most one second to roll about in the frigid white powdered mounds before dashing back inside the barn to find his other kits.

Wolffang woke, bleary eyes and thirsty, in a dark hole. The walls of the hole were cold to the touch, but the floor was lined with warm, damp moss. He shivered, his pelt wet and cold as frozen stone. Beside him, his brother dozed, the fur on his right foreleg completely burnt off, the pink skin now red and blistered and slathered in a hasty poultice. His sister crouched beside Hazelstorm, whose whiskers were also noticeably fewer, and consulted in hushed tone with their father. Falconshade was badly burned, patches of fur missing on his face, flank, and legs. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he was solemn. Blossomclaw was singed and the bottoms of her paws burnt and blistered, but otherwise unharmed. Wolffang himself was sore and parts of his hairless skin stung something awful. He stood, and limped over to where his sister sat with his father.

"-can't possibly make it there tomorrow." The ginger and white she-cat was saying. Falconshade raised his head and greeted Wolffang kindly.

"How are you feeling?" Falconshade murmured.

"I've been better." Wolffang mewed ruefully, and Blossomclaw smiled, a wry and bitter thing, "How did we get out, Papa?"

"You breathed in too much smoke and he had to drag you," Blossomclaw answered, "And then he came back in o lead us out." Wolffang turned to his father, wide-eyed.

"Thank you," He purred, "You're amazing."

"Nothing any other father wouldn't do." Falconshade shrugged humbly, "Now, we have to decide when we leave."

"Hazelstorm needs a medicine cat immediately, and so do you." Wolffang said automatically, "We leave tonight."

"There's no way we could possibly get there tonight!" Blossomclaw hissed.

"He may be right," Falconshade murmured, "We have to get to a medicine cat, ad the closest options are ruled out due to the, ah, present circumstances."

"You mean Windclan would kill us and Riverclan would attack us," Wolffang mewed.

"Yes." Falconshade nodded.

"So the safest option is to leave tonight! Riverclan is asleep, and we very nearly have safe passage through their territory." It felt strange saying "their", and not "our".

"You're right," Blossomclaw admitted, "But I still don't like it."

"You can help Papa," Wolffang mewed, "And I'll carry Hazelstorm. We'll reach their camp by dawn." He promised them.

"We don't even know where it is!" Falconshade mewed, astonished, "How could we make it by dawn?"

"I know where to go," Wolffang insisted.

Wolffang crept into Shadowclan camp at the break of dawn. His brother's weight heavy on his back, the sights and smells now so familiar, as if he were walking through a waking dream. The camp seemed quiet and empty, snowdrifts carved by paths trampled by many sets of paws, white caps on each den, the freshkill pile dusted over. Falconshade limped close behind him, Blossomclaw propping her father up so he could walk. Wolffang blinked a few times, and dug his claws into the snow, assuring himself it wasn't all just a dream. The journey here had been perilous, danger lurking at every shadow in Riverclan, tensions high and nerves frayed.

"What now?" Blossomclaw whispered nervously. Wolffang glanced at her, eyes wide and startled.

"I-I don't know." He replied quietly. Falconshade grunted.

"We were too careful. They're al asleep." With a low groan, the ginger tabby stumbled to the front of the group. "We have to make some noise if we're ever going to get help." Wolffang and the others watched as their father threw himself in front of them.

"We seek asylum!" Falconshade shouted, and immediately every den began to quake with movement and voices. One frantic gray shape leapt from the warrior's den, and gaped at the group, green eyes wide. "Please, my kits need you help!"

"Falconshade!" The gray tom cried in shock as he stared at the four cats in the center of Shadowclan camp. Others had emerged from their dens now; they recognized the dark tortoiseshell shape of Hollowstar, the strong gray tom that was his newly-appointed deputy, and others they'd seen, but never spoken to, at gatherings.

"Are those Whitefang's-?" A tortie she-cat couldn't finish her question without bursting into tears. She ran to them, embracing Falconshade while sobbing. Wolffang wondered if he'd ever known this cat. The Shadowclanner lifted her watery dark blue gaze to his father's. "Thank you," She choked, "For bringing them home…it's been so long…" The she-cat stared at the three warriors as if she was seeing ghosts.

"Do we know you?" Blossomclaw asked curiously. Just then, Hazelstorm groaned and shifted his weight, tumbling off of Wolffang's shoulders. An apprentice screamed as she laid eyes on him.

"Somebody, get Shiverspots!" Dawnstrike, the deputy, barked. There was no need, for the pale gray she-cat with white speckles was already there, already asking warriors if they could carry the battered brown tabby into her den.

"I've got him," A gold and white tom volunteered, a look of wonder in his red-amber eyes as he set eyes on Whitefang's kits. Shiverspots helped load Hazelstorm onto the strange warrior's shoulders, and then Wolffang's brother disappeared into the crowd. The gray tom who'd first spotted them rushed forward and caught Falconshade just as the ginger tabby fell to the ground in pain.

"Come on, you…" He mumbled kindly, "Let's get you some help." Soon, only Wolffang and Blossomclaw stood before the entirety of Shadowclan. One by one, cats who'd known them and their mother stepped forward. The tortie she-cat was the first.

"Great Starclan, you've grown." She murmured, taking them in. "You look just like her, both of you. Tell me, what are your names now?"

"Blossomclaw," She answered readily, "And his is Wolffang." The white warrior was too stunned to speak. The she-cat shook her head.

"What I would've given for you to stay here…You mother was my best friend, you know," She grew sad, "My name is Cherrynose. Welcome home." With a soft smile, she stepped back. Her mate introduced himself as Bouncestrike, and their kits came forward too.

"We used to play with you," A black-pelted tom with his mother's blue eyes mused, "when you were little. We were apprentices when you left, and now you're warriors. It seems like only yesterday he took you away." They introduced themselves: Sorrelfang, Aspenclaw, and Honeysplash. Next, their younger littermates stepped up: Freckletail, Scorchear, Wildeye, and Nightsong. Wolffang and Blossomclaw could only stare as cats from their past tried to make them remember.

"We were great friends…don't you remember me?" Badgermask asked hopefully.

"Your mother brought me to the Clans when she was pregnant with you…we played mossball together. You really don't remember?" Emberblaze mewed sadly.

"I helped care for you when your mother died…we were like family." Duckflight sighed.

"Your mother and I were very close. I'm glad you're home." Lightheart purred as soon as he'd come back from the medicine cat's den, "Your brother and father will be fine."

"Our parents say your mother was very brave…we've heard all the stories!" Bravethorn and Flamedash said excitedly, "What was it like in Riverclan?"

"Stonetail and Paledove will be thrilled to see you!" Mothwhisker purred, "Come, let me show you to the elder's den." Wolffang and Blossomclaw followed her, wary of the parting crowd. There were so many cats…so many warriors. His head spun with all the names, all the relations, but really he was only here for them. His family.

"Who is it? What's going on out there?" A deep voice rasped.

"Addershriek, are Stonetail and Paledove awake?"

"The entire Clan is awake to whatever Starclan-forsaken thing has happened…" A white tom muttered, eyes mere slits against the dawn light reflected off the snow. Wolffang noted, startled, that the tom's eyes were bright silver.

"Well, Starclan has blessed us. Stonetail! Paledove! There's a couple someones here to see you!" Mothwhisker purred.

"If it's Shiverspots again, tell her my paw is fine…" A voice rumbled from the back of the den.

"It's not Shiverspots, and it isn't Snowpaw either. Now come out and say hello!" The dusty brown she-cat urged. Wolffang and Blossomclaw backed away from the entrance to the den, and an enormous gray tom emerged, the white splash on his chest glowing like freshly fallen snow. A pale silver she-cat followed him, gaunt and tired, her crystal blue gaze shattered. Mothwhisker smiled. "Look who it is!" She stepped aside, and the warriors set eyes on their grandparents for the first time in many moons.

"Great Starclan…" Stonetail murmured, his golden eyes so much like Whitefang's bright and shining with excitement.

"You're home!" Paledove cried, running to them. The shattered light in her eyes was replaced with something wholesome, and she wrapped them up in a squeezing embrace.

"Please, tell me this isn't a dream," Stonetail purred, looking at Wolffang.

"We're really here," The white tom smiled, "It's really us."

"You're just like your mother," Paledove said tearfully, "So much like your mother…" She was crying, then Stonetail was crying, and soon the kits were sobbing, clutching at the two elders like a lifeline.

"We're home," Blossomclaw choked on her words, "We're really home."

* * *

It had been a week, and they hadn't quite adjusted to life in Shadowclan. Everyone was kind, their burns were treated, and nests were made for them in the warrior's den, but were still a curiosity. They spent most of their days outside the elder's den, listening to Stonetail's stories. They realized that their grandfather had been far closer to their mother than Paledove had been up until a few moons before her death. They listened to how the other kits would bully Whitefang, the badger attack, adventures with Swanmist. Other cats told them stories too: Cherrynose and Bouncestrike, Lightheart, Emberblaze, Addershriek, and Featherfall would all tell tales of times when Whitefang was just Whitekit or Whitepaw or a young warrior. Falconshade listened with them, his eyes lighting up as they learned more about her history. The more they learned, too, the more they wished they could've known their aunt before. They couldn't bring themselves to tell Stonetail and Paledove about Swanmist and Whitefang, or anything about what happened on the halfbridge.

Wolffang knew Blossomclaw out of all of them was having the hardest time adjusting; she missed Reedfrost, the cream colored tabby tom in Riverclan. He had chased them out, but to her he was still just Reedpaw, who she'd fallen hard for. They'd planned their future out together and it shattered at their paws. Hazelstorm was fine, curious about everything and everyone, poking his nose into patrols, learning techniques for hunting in the forests and marshes of the territory from the other young warriors. Wolffang watched them all happily, making sure Falconshade was making friends and that his sister was meeting cats their age, and that his brother hadn't wandered off into the trees somewhere. However, he himself had spent the entire seven sunrises wondering why one cat in particular hadn't reached out to them. Timbermask was nowhere to be seen. Wolffang had built up the courage to talk to the tabby tom once he found him, and he had questions. So many questions. Questions like _why?_

He finally found the pale tabby tom in the warrior's den one evening when all others were out sharing tongues. Wolffang ducked into the den, blue eyes adjusting to the dim light. There was a tom eating toward the back, but he looked nothing like the Timbermask from his memories.

His pelt, matted and unkempt, hung off his fragile frame like moss clinging to a dying tree. The once-glossy brown tabby stripes were now dull, and his emerald eyes were dark. He wasn't the strong, well-spoken tom of Wolffang's memories. The white warrior approached him warily.

"I remember you," He said, standing a few paces away, facing the other warrior. Timbermask looked up and into his bright blue eyes, green gaze startled. The brown tom said nothing, only locked eyes with Wolffang, who stood a little straighter, a little prouder. He imitated his mother's stance on the halfbridge subconsciously. "You're my other father." Timbermask choked on a stray sparrow feather, and his eyes widened.

"Wolffang?" He said, jaw gaping open in astonishment. Hearing the affirmation of this tom saying his name was just enough. Wolffang smiled.

"Timbermask." He replied, and that was enough. The tabby teared up, and the white warrior stepped closer and sat beside him, where the veteran warrior held him close.

* * *

"Wolffang!" A voice cried out over the sound of pouring rain, "Wolffang!"

"Lilypaw?" He called, peering through the sheets of falling water. A dappled cinnamon shape burst from the tunnel and bowled him over, laughing.

"I passed! I did it; I passed! I passed!" She purred, nestling deep into the wild tangle of wet white fur on his chest. Her green eyes met his, shining with excitement.

"Congratulations," He laughed, rolling over and knocking her into the mud, her already dirty pelt now splattered with grainy marsh water.

"My ceremony is tonight, oh, Wolffang!" She smiled, nuzzling his cheek, "I'm so excited!"

"I remember my warrior ceremony," He mused, thinking back to his life in Riverclan. It seemed so long ago that they'd left and come here, to the land of the pines.

"Oh, don't say that, you make yourself sound old!" Lilypaw chided, "You're only a few moon older than me; you were barely a warrior when you came home!"

"Does it matter?" He growled playfully, wrestling her to the ground again. "Now we'll both be warriors, together."

"I've waited too long for this," Lily whispered gleefully.

"And now you won't have to wait any longer." He grinned, "I've had your nest built for _moons_!"

"This should've happened sooner! I swear to Starclan, Badgermask is so sick of me!" Lilypaw exclaimed dramatically.

"Well, if you'd never broken that leg…" Wolffang trailed off teasingly, and she whapped his nose with a gentle paw.

"Shut up!" She giggled, getting to her paws. She helped him up and out of the mud and the tall tom rested his chin on her head.

"Now, little flower, we can finally be one and the same." He mused, breath hot on her ears. She wriggled out from under the weight of his great white head and touched her nose to his cheek.

"It's been far too long a wait," She murmured.

"Lovebirds, you should make yourselves presentable for the ceremony!" Badgermask called from where she stood beside the tunnel entrance. She, too, was coated head to toe in dirt and rain. "Hollowstar said he'll call it as soon as possible!"

"No! I can't be named looking like this!" Lilypaw gasped, hurrying away.

"Wait for me!" Wolffang laughed, chasing her into the apprentice's den. They tumbled inside in a knot of fur and limbs, giggling like kits. Mistpaw and Shadepaw eyed them from where they sat, grooming themselves. Moonpaw and Turtlepaw tittered in the corner.

"Great Starclan, I'm a mess!" Lilypaw groaned, looking down at her dirty pelt with dismay.

"Nothing a little spit and polish can't fix," Wolffang grinned, licking her cheek and then wiping his tongue on the moss of her old nest. One stripe of clean fur now shone on her face. "There! All done!" Lilypaw snickered.

"You fool!" She teased. They commenced grooming each other, to Mistpaw and Shadepaw's disgust. The pair fled the apprentice's den and sought shelter elsewhere.

"Gross," Shadepaw muttered as they left.

"I think it's _romantic_ ," Moonpaw sighed happily, and Turtlepaw rolled her eyes.

"All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath Speaking Stone for a Clan meeting!" Hollowstar shouted over the thunder and rain.

"Am I pretty?" Lilypaw asked Wolffang cheekily, posing at the entrance to the apprentice's den. Moonpaw and Turtlepaw had already scampered away to find their father, Stormfall, and sit beside him Honeysplash.

"Always," Wolffang purred sweetly, catering to her rare vanity. She grinned.

"Aren't you _darling_!" She laughed before leading him outside and into the storm. He followed her as she darted to the center of the crowd that had gathered beneath their aging leader, and he watched proudly as she took her lace beside the two younger apprentices before Hollowstar.

"Lilypaw, please step forward." He boomed, voice ageless as he sat, hunched over in the cold night air. "Badgermask, has this apprentice trained hard and worked to understand and respect the ways of the warrior code and the ways of Shadowclan?" He asked.

"She has." Badgermask answered.

"Then, Starclan, we call upon you to bless her as warrior! Lilypaw, from this moment on, you shall be known as Lilybreeze. You have been an apprentice longer than most thanks to unforeseen challenges, and for that Starclan honors your bright spirit and perseverance, and welcomes you as a full of warrior of Shadowclan!" The Clan cheered her name, Wolffang louder than all of them. Falconshade watched his son proudly as he called out his mate's name to the stars, as if shouting to Whitefang. Beside Wolffang, Blossomclaw chanted Lilybreeze's name as well, her young kits huddled under her belly as they sheltered from the rain. Wildeye sat close to her, his tail wrapped about both her and the kits. Hazelstorm cheered too, catching Flamedash's eye across the crowd and looking away abashedly as she smiled.

As soon as the ceremony was over, Wolffang hurried to catch Lilybreeze before she sat for her vigil. She met his gaze over the heads of her parents, and hurriedly excused herself before running to him. He caught her as she flew at him again, small frame a bundle of excitement against his enormous shape.

"Hey there, _Lilybreeze_ ," He purred, pressing his forehead to hers and keeping her gaze locked with his. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled back at him, a deep purr throbbing in her throat.

"Hey there," She whispered.

 **Part 3 of 3**

 **Hope you enjoyed it!**


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